The 12 Dates of Christmas

The One With the Snow (feat. Gerard Way)

A snowball whizzed past you and hit the rear door of your car as you stepped out onto the driveway.

“Give me a little warning, Gerard,” you said loudly towards the yard, not even sure where he was. You'd just had another bad day at the office, but you couldn't be mad about the surprise attack. It was sort of cute.

“That's not how snowball warfare works," came his disembodied voice at the same time as another snowball. This one hit your leg.

“Oh, you're going down.” You crouched, scooping up the crisp snow and starting a stockpile of frozen projectiles.

Gerard popped up out of nowhere with three snowballs he chucked in rapid succession. Two missed but one hit your shoulder. He hooted victoriously.

While he had his arms raised in celebration, you took aim and hit him squarely in the chest. Twice.

He rubbed at his ribcage. “Those were not playful throws. Another rough day?” He dove back behind a pile of snow.

You grabbed an armful of your own snowballs and tried to sneak closer to him. The crunch of snow made stealth difficult.

“I don't fit in. I can't change who I am, but just wish I was normal,” you whined, finding your own hiding place.

An exaggerated gasp came from behind the mountain he'd built himself. “No way. Normal. No.”

A snowball sailed in an arc and hit the ground a foot away from you.

“I'm serious.” You stood to throw a snowball and found him doing the same.

“Every snowflake is different, motherfucker,” he said as you both threw. You got his shoulder. He got your face.

“Score!” He crowed.

You wiped your face and laughed. You walked to him and fell into his arms giggling.

“Every snowflake is different. All of them. It's science and shit. Crystallization,” he continued, pushing your wet hair out of your face.

“Science always cheers me up.”

“It should. But really. Everyone at that office is different. You're just the only one who isn't lying about it,” He shrugged. “We're all freaks. You're just a trustworthy one.”

You pulled away from him, grinning. “"Okay. I hear you.”

“Good. But can we finish this inside? Because my jeans are soaked and frozen and I'll be walking like a Tim Burton claymation if we're out here any longer. And that's not the point of Christmas Land.”

“What is the point?” you asked as you moved toward the house and stomped your feet on the sidewalk to knock some of the snow off your pants.

"There isn't one. Loser makes cocoa. You lose. Marshmallows please. Domo arigato Mister Roboto.” He bounded up the stairs to the porch, and you followed.

“You're right. You're hopelessly weird. That doesn't make sense. Go inside."

Gerard giggled and turned to give you a quick kiss as he opened the door. His lips were cold. Cocoa was needed.

You both peeled off your wet clothing and you ran to the kitchen, leaving it all in a heap by the front door. If having cocoa in your underroos was wrong, you didn't want to be right. You turned the burner on under the kettle and reached for the cocoa as Gerard entered the kitchen, wrapped in a blanket, still wearing his hat.

He'd lost it once, and whined about it for weeks until he'd gotten a replacement. You chuckled and pulled it down over his eyes.

He left it there and pulled you into his lap, singing. He wrapped the blanket around you both as he butchered a song.

“Do you wanna build a snowman? Do you wanna hang out in some snooow? Because I can't find anyone, to help with this, all this fuckin snooow…”

It was ridiculous, but you were feeling better, and that was your life with Gerard in a nutshell.

His song continued. “Do you wanna ride a scooter bike? Maybe, I don't knoooow. Do you wanna build a snowman?”

You pulled the hat back off his eyes, kissed his nose, and escaped his grip to attend to the cocoa, as you finished the song.

“Noooo.”

He came after you, wrapped the blanket around you, and hip checked you out of the way, reaching to make the cocoa himself.

“We're drinking this cocoa, and then we're building a goddamned snowman.”

He grinned, and you stole his hat.